


Ride in the Drakwald

by VanillaTin



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Cum Play, Doggy Style, Erotica, F/M, Fantasy, Genderbending, HMOFA - Freeform, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Licking, Maledom, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, human male/female anthro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaTin/pseuds/VanillaTin
Summary: Khazrak One-eye, the most well known and feared beastwoman in the Old World.She had waged a long and bloody war against the Empire of Man, striking brutally and quickly from the shadows of the Drakwald before retreating back into the darkness. Throughout all of her years, she'd slain countless humans and would gladly kill more in the name of the dark gods.There was one human she'd enjoyed her time with, and tonight's the night she runs into him once again.(Rated Explicit for Sex)
Relationships: human male/anthro female, human male/female furry
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. The Wolf and the Beast

Part 1: 

The woods of the Drakwald were old and cursed, a land that had never been fully tamed by the will of the men of the Empire. As farms were built and villages erected the bestial hordes lurked the trees for their next sacrifice to the dark gods. It was the grim reality of the Drakwald, a life of murder and death in a feud lasting centuries. But there was one beast lord that stood above her kind. For anyone living in the Drakwald they prayed never to encounter the one-eyed beastmen and her ravenous kin. Bedtime stories were told to children never to wonder too far from the towns and roads for they may be taken by the forest. The last thing they would know would be the one-eyed face of her. 

Khazrak One-eye.

A name that struck fear into the hearts of both humans and beastmen. 

Khazrak watched over the beastmen camp, Gors went about usual beastmen recreational activities. Fighting for the right to eat, fighting over who would rut and fighting for the sake of fighting. She snarled at the sight, knowing her bestial kin could do little more than fight each other. She strode from her private tent, other beastmen stepping aside as she focused on the cooking boar at the centre of the clearing. The afternoon sun glimmered on her chainmail covering her tall and muscular frame. Once she reached to boar she presented her blade, taking time to hack chunks of meat from the roasting animal. She spotted a hand out of the corner of her eye. Reaching forth for a taste of the meal she held right too. With swiftness she swung around, cleaving a bleeding canyon into the creature’s chest. With an assertive roar, the gor backed off with his hand clasped over his wound. The gor stepped forward, trying to prove his metal to her as a warrior worthy of her attention and a meal. Khazrak raised her blade once more, the gor cowering before the beastlord as he submissively held his head low. Proving himself to be another opportunistic runt. 

Most beastmen females were shy and submissive, little more than breeding sows for the reproduction of the beastmen race. It was peculiar when one rose to the point of being a beastlord. Khazrak was one of those very few. But ever since she fought the previous beastlord, breaking his horns and sending him to die in the forest she had run things. 

She fought challenges to her lordship but she couldn’t do it like the other Gors. She was smaller and weaker than the larger males, she couldn’t rely on the brute strength of her kin. If strength was what got her position, cunning is what maintained it. She began to pick out the types that would challenge her authority. Ones that grew too arrogant for their own good and would attempt to take the herd by force. She would accept their challenge but make sure she was at an advantage. Replacing their weapons with dull blades. Getting them drunk before the bout, or having another gor take them on before they challenged her. Even as her brown hair protruding through her armour turned grey, she staved off the onslaught of challengers. Every single one of them would try only to die before her blade. As she went back to her tent, boar leg in hand she sat confidently knowing no one would try to challenge her this day. That no one had managed to best her martial skill and cunning mind. 

But there was one exception. 

It was hard to forget the human who left her eye a pulsating mess.

She didn’t expect to see the tenacity and focus from that mere human from the city atop the mountain. She first met him on that night after several successful raids on human villages. Stealing the livestock, burning their homes and slaughtering the inhabitants. Then the man from the mountain came. In one night her herd was destroyed, her subjects slain or sent fleeing into the woods. The man himself, a tall and broad figure atop a white horse charging into the fray with fire in his heart and fury in his eyes. Beastmen were ridden down beneath his steed while his swift sword cleaved a path through the bodies. He was aiming straight for her. She didn’t have time to react before the blow took her eye. The only reason she lived that day was when her favoured chaos hound Redmaw attacked the human’s horse. Allowing her to run into the forest with a hand over her weeping eye. 

She sought revenge. Plotting for years against the human, watching his movements, his aims, his goals and his actions. She watched as he fiercely charged into the thick of combat. Slaying her kin with a ferocity and vigour, bellowing orders to his underlings while guiding his men to victory against the beastmen hordes. Leading them into combat without doubt. Ordering his soldiers without fear nor hesitation. Even when she managed to ambush him, managing to pin him beneath her he continued to struggle. As she ripped his eye out he attempted to fight back. The eye she treasured, even if it had rotted to nothing long ago. 

For nearly three decades she had squared off against him. She had watched as the fur across his lips greyed and his voice turned harsher. Even as he seemed frailer he was no less determined. When she saw him he always had a fire in his eye that burned with a primal hatred towards her people. She had watched him slay monsters twice his size and strength. He had felled a minotaur, something that could easily crush an armoured human beneath its hoof. He took it out in three swings, and still had the energy to fight on. She looked around the camp once more. If he stormed into the clearing, many of her kin would be too stupid to fear him. Probably taking up arms before witnessing the skilled swings of the human. Sending them scattering to the wilderness, he could probably kill any of them in a duel. The only exception she thought would be her. 

But he wouldn’t do it alone. 

No, he was a smart human. One that had studied and learnt from the tactics of her kind. He wouldn’t fight, instead he would taunt her warriors. Making them chase him through the thick and dark trees until their legs grew tired and lungs begged for reprieve. Only then would his soldiers charge forth to hack apart her kind. Finishing them off with a charge from his mounted warriors in wolf pelts. 

For a culture that prided strength at arms as well as cunning, the human had both in droves. A burning determination that failed to fade with age and a sharp mind in the realm of war. He would be unmatched as a beastmen. A leader who could rally the herds under one banner and bring the civilisation of the Empire to razed ruins. She would be happy to serve beneath him. 

Perhaps as more than just a second in command. 

She had grown fond of the human. 

Khazrak had never seen him out of combat and when she did it would be before a skirmish. She wondered what he was like beneath the armour. It must be something to carry himself at such fury around the battlefield even when he was on foot. The strength to cut large creatures apart while hurling cries of bloody revenge. A man of power and vigour. As she thought of the human she felt a hand stroke her leg while a deep bray emanated towards her. She snapped her attention to see a gathering of wide-eyed gors. She noticed she must have been giving off pheromones as she looked down to see she was unconsciously rubbing her thighs together. Even she could smell her arousal as she fantasised over her human obsession. The bestigor’s hand rubbed her thigh, trying to woo her gently with a low sensual bleat and half-lidded eyes. Probably thinking he was the target of her arousal. The bestigor seductively brayed once more, sliding his hand beneath her hauberk, closing in on her moistened nethers. How dare he touch her like that. 

She swiftly brought down her blade, severing the bestigor’s hand and sending the mutant sprawling to the ground in pain. She leapt to her hooves, presenting the bloody and rusted blade to the other gor’s, bellowing to them as they backed away with fearful hunches and averted eyes. As one last insult, she hurled the severed hand towards the roasting fire. The sight giving warning to any others brave or stupid enough to lay hands on her. It was only after the males had scrambled before she rested on her haunches once more. It was a commonality, gors thinking they could bring her over by ‘accidentally' letting their loincloths slide or groping her sensitive areas. The fire in her loins had died down a bit. She failed to sit still, fighting as she tried to ignore the her begging folds. All she could think about was the human in the armour. As she wriggled she raised a paw to her missing left eye.

It had never fully healed, continuing to bleed and pulsate. A missing eye would usually be viewed as a weakness in her culture. But for Khazrak, it was what kept her going. A constant reminder of him on her at all times. 

The fire in her loins wasn’t going anywhere soon and the advances of her kinsmen was doing more to put it out. She had spent all these years holding it in, knowing that as soon as she showed weakness and gave into a mate her rulership would be over. She would just be viewed as another breeding sow in the eyes of her warriors. Now with her leg of pork reduced to a bone being twined between her teeth she did what she usually did when she got hot and bothered. She slunk away into the forest, disappearing from the eyes and noses of the encampment to the darkness of the Drakwald.

———

Boris X Todbringer, Graf of Middenheim, Grand Duke of Middenland, Prince of Carroburg, Protector of the Drakwald, Warden of the Middle Mountains and Beloved of Ulric, was having a bad day. Many would say that the Elector Count hadn’t had an easy reign. Having his first wife die in childbirth granting a violent, idiot of a son. An older son that while being smart and strong was the product of an illegitimate relationship with a lady of the court. Therefore his succession was thought to be destined by a violent, invalid whom he regretted siring. That was only his personal life. 

Following the death of the mad Emperor Luitpold I, it was speculated that Boris Todbringer would be the next Emperor. But after a series of political moves and arguments, these speculations were proven false with the title of Emperor falling to Luitpold’s very own son, the prince of Aldorf, Karl Franz.

It took several days ride for Todbringer to return to Middenheim, his head low with an unwavering scowl. The celebrations in the name of the new emperor had him keeping to himself to his palace. Watching from the windows as the festivities filled the streets of the city of the White Wolf. He found himself praying to Ulric, continuing to ask why this had happened. Why was a young pup of Sigmar given the crown over him? An experienced statesman with a long bloody history defending the Empire. A man who had fought long and hard against the Norscans, the greenskins, the undead and the dreaded beastmen. 

The White Wolf gave him only silence. 

Todbringer knew he couldn’t mope around forever, he was still an elector count, a leader of his state and protector of its people. But even with his head towards his work, it did little to take away his doubts. Every time someone referred to him as Graf, Grand Duke or Elector Count he thought of how that could always be Emperor. Sure, even as an Emperor he would have to listen to the advisors and Bürgermeisters as they discussed trade and edicts for the state. But it was never lost on him. 

He was still an Elector Count. 

After watching Franz rule over the Empire, he grew fond of the young emperor. Ready to go to war at the arrival of a message. But even war couldn’t take his mind off the tragic affairs of his home life. After a second marriage that gave no heir and a second dead wife the Graf became more melancholic. In recent years more tragedy struck. 

The murder of his younger son and his doctor took another mental toll on Todbringer. Now with a daughter born from an affair with a lady of his court as his heir, many suitors have flocked from far and wide to secure a marriage with the Todbringer dynasty. So far, none have been found worthy. 

The Grand Duke of Middenland, after many years of being weighed down by paranoia, depression and mental battering had become a shell of the former warrior and statesmen. No more than a puppet for his advisors, he agreed to what was said and didn’t dare think more of it. His bushy beard streaked with pale grey while his face had turned pale with deep wrinkles running through it like cracks in stone. It was complemented with plenty of scars from previous battles, including one running through the hole where his right eye once rested. Now covered in a metal eyepatch engraved with the sigil of Ulrich. His remaining eye was a pale blue, like a stormy sky that had endured years of hardships both physical and mental. 

Through it all, Boris Todbringer was no longer the young man of the reputation he built. 

But he was still a Todbringer. 

Today was another civil matter in the court. In the halls decorated in dedication to the God Ulric, words of civility echoed off the walls displaying savage wolf pelts and hung weapons. Three of the figures surrounding the long wooden table were clad in grey, three more were wearing the blue and white colours of Middenheim’s State army. Papers scattered the table in between quills and filled wine mugs. The Grand Duke of Middenland sat in his throne, dressed in furred robes fitter for a man of the woods than a man of the aristocracy. 

“As for building reports, there’s the restoration of the Southern gate which the builders have said is going smoothly and should be done in four days time.” The slow, calm tone of the old man in grey seemed to flow past Todbringer. His left eye didn’t have focus, simply staring into nothingness as the discussion continued. Being a fierce worshipper of Ulric, Todbringer was a warrior at heart with a deep love of combat. Even if it had lost him his eye, he felt comfortable with a sword in hand in the beast filled forests of the Drakwald. Being born and raised a warrior, he saw civil matters as mundane. Even then, he just agreed with the advisor’s verdict. Gently his eye wandered around the hall. 

The banners etched with battle honours and titles of past victories. The swords, axes, lances and shields, wielded by past heroes of the Empire in the defence of its people. The armour, proudly displaying the dents and cracks of past bouts of combat. The skulls polished to a shine whether it be orcs, goblins, giants, Norsemen and undead. But there was one that captivated his interest above all other threats to his people. 

It was a large bestial bovine skull. Too large to belong to any regular cow. It had large unnaturally curved horns. The teeth were sharp, belonging to a feral carnivore and not the grass eating herbivore's maw. For over half his life Todbringer had been fighting the terrible and cunning beastmen of the woods. His Runefang, Legbiter had slain uncountable gors and brays. Leading his men on hunts for the creatures had been his lifework. However, it was for naught.

For every creature he slew, it felt like another would just take it place. 

But that wasn’t what drove Todbringer. 

Slowly raising his trembling hand, the ageing Elector Count felt the metal patch where his eye once stood. It reminded him of who it was that drove him. The closest he had to a friend in all these years. He remembered that day. 

When he first met her, he thought nothing more of her than another beastlord. Sure she was a female but that didn’t mean much to him. The armies clashed under the night sky, the Drakwald Forest being washed with the blood of man and beast. Amongst the carnage, the beastlord and the Elector Count duelled. While it didn’t end in the death of either, Legbiter tasted blood that day. Removing the beast-woman’s left eye with a blow meant for her brain. Before Todbringer could deliver the deathblow, another creature threw itself at him. Taking him off his horse, letting her escape into the Drakwald.

It would take many years, but an eye for an eye prevailed. Todbringer was once more on campaign against the enemies of the Empire. Again it was dark, and he should have seen it coming. Without warning, arrows flew from the forest accompanied by the guttural brays and cries of the beastmen hordes. Todbringer went for his Runefang, ready to charge the enemy before a large hand threw him from his mount. Pinned under a towering figure, he thought could be any beastlord. Until the light illuminated the puss-filled pit that once held her left eye. With his limbs pinned, Todbringer could do nothing as she carefully reached down with deliberate cruelty. Even as Todbringer clamped his eye shut he could only struggle as the beast-woman pried into his skull. Ignoring his squirming and screaming, he roared in agony as she scooped out his right eye. Even through the tears of pain, Todbringer saw the crooked smile that adorned her goat-like head. She played with the eye between her fingers, rolling it around her palm before dragging her tongue along it to the disgust of the Graf. As the battle raged around him, Todbringer waited for it. The blow that would end his life. But it never came. 

Instead, he felt the pressure of the beast-woman shift off him, leaving him in the mud with his hand over the bleeding socket. The beastmen left as fast as they arrived. Only corpses and carnage remaining as they disappeared back into the woods. Leaving Todbringer humiliated and hungry for revenge. 

Ambushes, counter-attacks, hunts and death. Fierce warriors and leaders standing above their kin, the two had continued to hunt each other with neither claiming victory. Even if many of his friends fell, taken by the chaos-spawn in those many years, it had been the happiest times for Todbringer. Even if it was hate driving him forward. 

“Graf Todbringer…Graf Todbringer?” His thoughts were broken with the trembling voice of one of his advisors. Catching his attention the cold eye snapped to the elderly visage of the law lord.

“Um, yes, what was the question?” Todbringer’s voice had shallowed with age, no longer the booming growl that echoed through parade grounds. Still fearsome, but it had rusted like the rest of him.

“Did you wish to approve the restoration of the North Road leading to Nordland?” The law lord asked once more, the rest of his advisors had their eyes locked on Todbringer as he hesitated to grumble out an answer. 

“Oh, yes…yes do…do…Gentlemen, I must adjourn this meeting for another time?” The Elector Count suddenly stood up from his throne, taking the last gulp of his wine before walking off to the dismay of the advisors. 

“Why is that my Graf?” One of the law lords questioned as Todbringer strode towards the exit. He didn’t turn as he answered, instead his voice echoing in the walls of the palace. 

“I feel that I might be coming down with something. We’ll start this again early tomorrow.” He gave a wave to the dumbstruck onlookers. Before leaving he flashed a spiteful glance at the minotaur skull. Snarling to himself as he exited the hall. 

He made his way quickly through the halls of his palace, even if his age had taken its toll he still moved with a grand determination driven by stubbornness and will. When he reached his room he found the squire still at his post. Upon hearing his heavy footsteps the young man snapped awake, standing at attention as Todbringer moved past him. 

“My lord.” The squire said eagerly as the Graf entered his bedroom, not taking notice of the squire as he stopped in front of the stand holding a suit of ornate dwarf forged plate armour. 

“Armour me up boy.” The count began to unbuckle his shoes as the squire stood still with his mouth agape and eyebrows raised. 

“Are you going somewhere? Should I alert the knights of the White Wo-.” The squire was interrupted with a leather boot hitting him square in the chest. Despite the shock, the young man caught the footwear, looking up to see Todbringer throwing off his pelt robe with a stern frown. 

“Shut up lad and help me undress.” For Todbringer, even putting on his armour brought on aches and pains of past conflict. Strapping on his gambeson along with the dwarf forged plate mail with the help of the young man. Every time the armour went on it felt heavier to him. It was the same armour he started with and it was surely going to be the armour he’d die in. Despite being in his late fifties Todbringer was still an imposing man, standing broader and taller than those around him. Even his age couldn’t take that away. The last piece of armour was his signature helmet. A decorative gold plated castle atop the crown with large white and red feathers. It felt heavy, even if the weight hadn’t changed. As he made the last adjustments footsteps alerted him of the approaching squire, holding both his shield and Runefang. 

“Your shield and sword my Graf. Should I prepare your horse?” Taking both the blade and his shield his felt the weapons in his grasp. He had been through many shields, this one would do the same. Legbiter, the staff of office granted to him when he first became the Elector Count as a young man. Forged centuries ago by the dwarfs and sharp enough to cut an armoured chaos warrior in twain. The magical weapon felt natural in his grip as he twirled it about. He nodded to the squire, a smile growing on his cracked lips as he looked down on the young man. 

“Do, but don’t tell anyone.” 

With the sun pass the horizon, a single barded warhorse approached the guardhouse flanked by Middenheim’s towering walls. City watch officers leaned about, their metal cuirasses halberds shining in the torchlight as they exchanged idle chatter. As the rider approached one of the watchmen stood up, bringing the rider to a halt with a swinging lantern. 

“Sorry sir, for the protection against beastmen Graf Boris Todbringer has decreed that the gates of Middenheim are to remain closed to anyone attempting to leave until the sun rises.” The rider brought his horse to a standstill, the watchman noted the ornate plate mail armour.

“Dare you speak to your Graf like that watchman?” Raising his light the watchman’s face went pale at the sight of the gold castle shape atop a helmet. The visor raised to reveal the one-eyed, grim visage of the elector count baring an intimidating snarl. 

“I-I’m sorry my Graf I-.” Todbringer ignored the pleas, harshly pointing to the gate with his gauntlet covered hands. 

“Quit your grovelling lad and get the gate open.” The watchman went silent, fearfully nodding as he backed away from the Elector Count. 

“Yes my Graf, OPEN THE GATE!” The shout echoed up the walls and with a pause, the gears of the gatehouse began to grind. The clanking of metal pierced the night air as the other watchmen looked on in awe towards the Grand Duke. All of them had heard of his exploits and some have even served with him on the field of battle. Todbringer didn’t wait for the gate to fully rise before his horse charged forth. Leaving behind a trail of dust and confused Middenheimers. 

Middenheim was a city built as a fortress, stationed on a plateau atop a mountain with steep cliff faces on all sides. The only way in and out was up narrow carved out roads, all of which were lined with battlements armed with cannons and siege engines. Todbringer knew it well as he rode down the stone causeways. He had stopped the Everchosen here, and he’d do it again if need be. But that time had passed, for now as he was riding into the Drakwald. 

He didn’t know how long he rode down the empty forest paths, seeing little before him but the winding dirt roads flanked by oppressive trees. The moonlight was barely visible through the branches and leaves, leaving little for the Graf to guide his steed. 

He had ridden down these roads for most of his life, he could put his patch over his good eye and still find his way. 

As the trunks went by in a blur he felt relief flow through him. At home, he was a leader entrusted with the good and wellbeing of his people. A man who must stand up and never falter before the people of Middenland. But out here, he was simply a warrior atop of warhorse. Looking around he wondered what stood beyond the trees. Where the bray herds waited for their next plunder, biding their time to strike another farm, village or caravan for looting and slaughter. The roads out the Drakwald were doted with fortified inns for travellers, cooping up for the night and praying to Ulric or Sigmar to protect them from the barbarians beyond the walls. Yet here he was, alone aside from his mount. 

And he still didn’t know why. 

He slowed his galloping horse to a trotting pace, making sure the equine didn’t suffer a sudden cramp or exhaustion. He waited for his single eye to get used to the darkness, eventually being able to outline the various shapes and silhouettes under the moon’s glow. Despite the fortified inns and watchtowers, the Drakwald remained the most dangerous forest of the Empire. Beastmen weren’t the only problem with goblins, orcs and bandits making their homes beneath the cursed branches. As Todbringer scanned the area he saw something. Looking akin to a campsite on the side of the road surrounding a smouldering fire. He slowed his horse to a stop, hoping that some outsider hadn’t made the mistake of camping in the Drakwald. 

“Anyone there? Have no fear I’m a man of Middenheim, I’m here to protect you.” He announced, mud squelching under his armoured boots as they hit the ground. His eye focused on the main tent. Even so, it darted around as he kept his eye towards the tree line, his free gauntlet ready to draw Legbiter. He saw how rugged the tent appeared, it wasn’t uncommon for woodsmen to have tents for a while but this one was heavily torn and poorly constructed. As he pushed the curtains aside his eye shot open at an approaching growling. Legbiter hissed as it was drawn, spinning swiftly to face the mutated hound charging through the air. The blade connected with the dog's neck. Decapitating the creature and splashing Todbringer’s armour with a fresh coat of sickly blood. 

Looking around Todbringer could see more figures approaching. Mutterings and gutturally brays being carried by the cool breeze. They were bipedal in shape, all of them had bestial legs with swinging tails and trotting hooves. Some of them were scrawny, barely anything on skeletons upholding gaunt frames with little horns atop scraggly heads. Some were tall and large, animal forms in a brutal parody of man and beast holding large axes and shields. As the figures emerged in the darkness Todbringer felt a force brewing in his chest as he raised his shield. The fires of Ulric was stocked within him, brought on by adrenalin and excitement. As the beastmen closed in he dropped his visor, hiding the smile growing on his greying face. Bashing his shield and Runefang together, he let out a defiant roar. 

“COME AND FACE DEATH SAVAGE BEASTS OF CHAOS!”


	2. Under the Trees

Khazrak had made it a good distance from the camp, far enough so the sounds of bleating, yelling and struggling were out of earshot and the smell of her kin was no more. She snorted the air, making sure no males had followed her out here. Her furred ears twitched in search of noise beyond the creaking and rustling of the wind. Once sure she was alone she unfurled her barbed whip and rusted blade. Taking a combat stance against an unseen enemy, she swung her blade. She fought her imaginary foe for a while, dodging the invisible blows and striking to invisible dodges and parries. The enemy she fought was skilled, managing to fight on for minutes on end without tire. Her breath grew heavier over time as her goat-like snout hung open. The blade occasionally impacted the trees, the cracks shuddering the leaves above. Despite the exhausting fight against an imaginary foe the burning in her folds hadn’t subsided, nor had her fantasies. Every time she imagined who she was fighting it came back to him. Imagining the man from the mountain dancing between the trees, his shield risen and a smile across his face. Taunting her, egging her on with insults with intermediating swings and charges. She could feel her loins aching, begging for attention but she wouldn’t give them any. He just kept seeing his face. 

After several minutes of sparing against herself, she slammed her blade into a tree. Her chest heaving beneath the chainmail while her jaw slacked open, panting harshly with a drooping eye. Despite her lungs burning and her head swimming her needy sex continued to cry out which she only satisfied by rubbing her furry thighs together. Hissing in frustration she lifted her hauberk, letting the cool air of the Drakwald caress her burning nethers. Sliding down the tree trunk she lifted the rusted chainmail beyond her waist as another hand snaked down. She grunted as she toyed with herself, her furred fingers rubbing her folds to bring out harsh gasps of delight. Ever since she was of age she’d been approached by male after male, some would fight each other over her while others would attempt it alone. Some just tried to rut her without her consent. First, she turned them away, then she struck them away. Even if the dumb ones tried again and again she couldn’t let herself stoop down. Any weakness would be taken by anyone vying for lordship. Even as her fur greyed she had kept herself free of a bull. She was probably beyond the age of breeding, any who tried only sought it for possible power. Either that or carnal desire. 

As she teased her lower lips, she brought a hand to her breasts. Pressing past the coarse brown fur and sinking her fingers against her soft bosom. Sure they weren’t full and plump like the younger sows but they still held heft. She slowly began grinding against her hand, feeling her fingers disappear between her thighs and sending pulses of euphoria through her body. With her one eye tightly shut she only concentrated on herself. The winds and rustling leaves beyond her as she breathily moaned in delight. Pinching her nipples and continuing to press against her hand in a furious daze. As shockwaves of ecstasy rocked her body, she continued to think about him. She imagined him there, his rough and strong hands and his grizzly bearded face. Pressing against her with a broad and hairy chest while feeling his hot breath brushing against her neck. Of course, she had to imagine as she plunged her hand further into her soaked depths. 

A clang of metal made her ear twitch. 

Her eye shot open as she heard it again, the approaching sound of clashing iron and shouts of anger, pain and fear. She peered around the corner to view bodies moving between the trees and shrubs.

———

Todbringer smashed the rusted axe aside before running the ungor through the chest. Without hesitation, he ripped the blade from the beastman before swinging to meet another. The enemy blade clashed against his metal armour to no effect as he decapitated the next ungor. Despite the sweat and pain building up under his plate mail a smile stayed across Todbringer’s cracked lips. Unlike the old statesman of Middenland, the Beloved of Ulric moved from enemy to enemy with grace in his sabatons. He could feel the anguish of his state life being washed away with excitement and beastmen viscera. It felt relaxing as he slammed his shield into a ungor sending shattered teeth to the forest floor. Following it up with a downward thrust. With his armour and shield, the crude weapons of the beastmen had barely any effect, but he could see them adapting. As he cut down another gor he felt a weight wrap itself around his back attempting to throw the count off his feet. Todbringer growled as he leaned with the creature. Bones crunching under the heavily armoured frame. Ignoring the creature’s cries, Todbringer dived out of the way of an oncoming blade as it embedded itself in the downed ungor. With a swing of Legbiter severing the beastman’s arm the count struck forth to impale the beastmen through the heart. Before the blade came down a hand grabbed Todbringer’s wrist while another forced itself under his helmet. Feeling the finger brush his lips Todbringer’s teeth clamped down upon the finger. The beast behind him letting out a roar of pain. With the dismembered beast coming in for another swing, the count twirled like a ballerina as the rusted blade impacted with the creature held by Todbringer’s teeth. Letting the limp body fall, Todbringer surged forward, finishing off the one-armed bane beast. His limbs ached, his lungs heaved and his vision was going blurry.

He loved every second of it. 

A blunt force struck his back, sending him to the blood-soaked soil. The count dived forward before a second swing thudded against the ground. Using a fallen log as leverage he staggered his feet. Raising his shield and gritting his teeth as another impact shattered his shield. Ignoring the throbbing pain he pushed himself up, lunging towards the bestigor only to feel a grip haul him back. A hand forced the blade from his arm while another hauled him to the ground. As he crashed to the mud and dirt his helmet slipped revealing the furrowed brow and pained eye of the Graf. Held down by two gors the bestigor gargled in laughter as more beasts watched on from the darkness. Barking, braying and mewling in sadistic cheer for the Graf’s death. The bestigor raised his axe for the final blow. 

Only for a sickening crack to echo, silencing the observing beastmen as another figure replacing the now slumped form. 

The large shadow charged forward like a whirlwind of death, slicing beastmen limb from limb with an unlimited fury. Todbringer watched as one of the gors holding him down was wrapped in a barbed whip and thrown off his hooves. Sent crashing into a tree with breakneck speed. As the other gors watched on in horror, Todbringer saw his chance. Bringing an armoured fist to the other gor’s muzzle with a hardy crumpling of bone. Todbringer finished the beastmen with a drop of his armoured knee. Leaving nothing but a bloody pulp where the beasts goat-like head used to be. The other beastmen fled, tails between their legs as they whinnied in fear. 

Boris snapped his head around to look at his saviour. the first thing he saw was the goat shaped head adorned with mighty horns. But what made his breath hitch in his throat was the missing eye. Todbringer went to stand, crashing back down as his boots slipped in the bloody ground. Khazrak turned to Todbringer, watching as the ageing man struggled to pull himself back up. Toppling himself against a fallen log with heaving, misty breaths. She could see the strain in his eye as he continued to pull himself up on sore muscles and strained joints. Covered in blood, dirt and fur the Graf stared up at Khazrak as he gestured to the carnage around him. A sarcastic laugh echoing past the trees. 

“Of course you’d show up…Was this your plan, send how many?” She recognised the voice, immediately confirming her suspicions as she turned to face the Graf. His smile staying through agonised aches. 

“I counted over twenty and I slay most of them. Now you’re here to finish me off while I’m weary? I thought you had some semblance of honour Khazrak!” She recoiled at the harsh accusation, stepping back as the Graf’s harsh voice died down. She followed his gaze, shifting towards the discarded Runefang flung far from the fight. If he went for it she would easily be able to intercept him. The human sighed in defeat, lowering his gaze with a relaxed brow and loose lips. 

“What are you waiting for Khazrak? Want to see me beg? One of your kin has knocked aside anything between your blade and my head. Are you going to split it down the middle? Remove my other eye?” He looked up, Khazrak hadn’t moved. Dumbstruck as she looked down at the human with a curious gaze, offended as Todbringer raised his voice. 

“You’d probably decapitate me and place my head on your belt. Show it off to your foul kind on how you bested the one-eyed human who took your eye?” Todbringer’s smile returned as he outstretched his trembling arms, returning the stare of the beast-woman who took his eye and would have no problem taking his life. As she continued to stand still Todbringer cackled, tears flowing down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. 

“It’s funny, isn’t it? My wives have died. My heir has died. My daughter’s too young and my other son’s far off in Reikland. I only ever see the other nobles for business…Then there’s you…The one that’s been in my life for the longest time.” Managing to stay his footing, the Graf stood upright in the gore drenched dirt as he stared down his mortal enemy. A grin plastered across his jaw as he trembled with a swirling mix of emotion. 

“I wouldn’t lie, I enjoyed every bit of it. Even when you scooped out my eye it didn’t stop me. For nearly three decades it was just me and you…Sword on sword, exchanging cuts and stabs. Now I die here. Go on Khazrak, I’M WAITING!” Even as death loomed Todbringer unsheathed a dagger, ready to take on the beast-woman in his final breaths.

Khazrak could understand what he was saying, he was offering himself to her. Even when accepting death he held a grim defiance and she could easily act on it. Her steps were light as she approached her rival. Stoping as she felt something connect with her hoof. She reached down, picking up the Graf’s dented helmet. Raising it to her muzzle her snout tingled with the musky aroma of his manly sweat. Todbringer watched on in confusion, his decorative helmet was a symbol of beastmen destruction just as much as his eyepatch and Runefang. He looked on as she buried her muzzle into his helmet, his gaze wandering back to Legbiter. His head snapped back with the sound of crunching leaves, watching as Khazrak ran off into the Drakwald with his helmet in hand. 

Todbringer raised a single eyebrow, his mouth fell ajar and his eye staring after the sprinting beast-woman. It felt wrong. Even if she didn’t kill him she would have at least taunted, mutilated or insulted him. She just sniffed his helmet and ran off with it. He didn’t know how long he was standing there, but it was long enough for his body to ache less. Enough collect Legbighter and wipe away some of the blood. It dawned on him that as he fought he’d let go of his sense of direction and was now lost in the Drakwald. His horse had scarpered during the fighting and with nothing but the carnage of mangled beastmen bodies around him, he decided to follow her hoof marks. 

She hadn’t been subtle, her tracks clear in the broken twigs and imprinted dirt. Even as it mixed in with other footprints he could tell who’s were Khazraks’. He managed to walk off his limp, eventually getting to a normal if weary gate. His eye itched in tiredness as he could feel sleep deprivation ensnaring his mind. He thought how many were losing sleep over the fact he’d left Middenheim. The Knights of the White Wolf would be ready to move as soon as daybreak came. State troop and road warden patrols were probably already being formed. Messages ready to be sent while search routes were planned out. All because he decided to run away from it all. So what would happen if he did die out here? His daughter was still too young to take the throne, a lord protector would be put in her place and he hoped the law lords would put his eldest son. But he cast those thoughts aside.

Free of anxieties, the shackles of an Elector Count life had stayed at the Gates of Middenheim. For now he was just a lonely armoured warrior of Ulric wondering through the Drakwald in search of a large beast-woman and his helmet. 

A couple fallen logs, many shrubs and countless broken leaves later he stopped as a grunt caught his ear. Raising his blade, the Graf approached the source coming from behind a tree. He didn’t bother hiding the sound of his movements, sneaking in his armour was impossible with the jingling and rattling. He steadied his legs and kept his movement purposeful, making sure to watch the placement of his boots. Was this it? From the harsh huffs and hoof trail, it had to her. He’d strike the final blow, avenge the many men and women she had slaughtered. Avenge his eye and triumph as another threat to his realm was conquered by his sword. Uttering a quick prayer to Ulric as he stayed off the aches and pains as he moved around with his blade raised. He stopped when he reached the tree, steadying his breath as he reassured the grip on Legbiter.

The sight he saw was bewildering.

———

Surely the human wouldn’t follow her this far, but she wasn’t thinking straight as she charged through the Drakwald with his helmet in her paw. Once she was sure she was far enough away she swiftly cast off her hauberk with her soaked nethers glistening under the moon’s glow. Falling against a tree with exhaustion she raised the helmet to her muzzle. Shivering as she savoured the intoxicating masculine fragrance of her rival as she buried her snout into the sweat-soaked inner lining. Her legs went weak and she couldn’t stop herself from falling to her knees, presenting her furred behind to the air with tail raised. With a hand leaving the helmet she trailed down her naked torso, brushing past her fur covered breasts and firm abs of a woman built for war. Past her child-rearing waist she found her glistening, puffy vulva as it cried out for attention. She sighed as she slowly twirled her fingers around her dripping folds, jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. As the virile scent continued to invade her nostrils stoking the fires of her lust she sunk her fingers in further. She had few moments to herself and she was going to make this one count. She had never got this smell for so long and she loved every second of it. Compared to the rank perspiration of her kin, the human’s smell held an addicting spice that swamped her with passion. She closed her eye and grit her teeth while her moans and groans were stifled by the helmet. Inhaling his sweet scent made the experience all worth it, his manliness engulfing her while she pleasured herself to the fantasy of him. 

Her eye shot open with a clank of armour, turning to see him. His blade above his head, ready to strike her down. Instead, he raised his eyebrows in confusion as he stared down at the stark naked beast-woman with Legbiter ready to decapitate her in a single stroke. Their eyes locked, the Graf of Middenheim trying to realise the masturbating beast-woman, her breast pressed against the forest floor. Her face buried in his helmet with her furry unclothed form against the dirt and tail topped bottom high into the air. Her paw was nestled into her dripping folds while the other gipped his helmet to her nose.

The stillness was broken when Khazrak went for her whip. 

Todbringer snapped out of his stupor as he swung to parry the attack. Khazrak rolled to her hooves, circling the Graf like a hungry predator. Her cursed blade at the ready and whip trailing through the leaves. Even without clothes, she was still a formidable force. Todbringer tried to remember that as he averted his eye from the furred mounds swaying with her movements. Taking initiative Khazrak surged forward, knocking Legbiter out of the way before bringing down her blade once more. Despite the pain in his joints, Todbringer sidestepped the cleaver as he reposted. The blade only clipped her fur as she pivoted out of the Runefang’s reach. They danced like that for a while, neither hitting the other as blades clashed with sparks and armour clattering. The forest stood silent with only the cracks of metal and breathy gasps breaking the silence. However, it was also the forest that broke the stalemate. 

As Khazrak bought down her blade once more. Todbringer stood firm, roaring as he summoned the strength of Ulric and raised Legbiter. The ancient dwarven craftsmanship of the Runefang proved itself as Todbringer cut the rusted blade in twain. Destroying her weapon as the two halves crashed against the leaves. His victory was short-lived as his footing failed, sending him to the dirt with his sword disappearing into the foliage. As he scrambled for his fallen weapon he felt the bladed whip ensnare his armoured ankle. Dragging him from his weapon he grunted as Khazrak dived forward. Straddling his chest with his arms locked underneath her. Even with her naked form pinning him down he kept his defiant gaze to her eye. The memories of the past flashed before him. The day he lost his eye to the beast-woman, an eye for an eye and she let him go. But that debt had been settled long ago. 

So why was she not killing him right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of this series, part 3 should be up soon.


	3. Ride in the Drakwald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part in this series, sorry for the wait.

Khazrak was just as perplexed as Todbringer. Feeling the fresh breeze caressing her fur as she held the Graf down. She could kill him but she didn’t want that. He was right before her but she couldn’t express what she wanted in words he could understand. But she only knew it was now or possibly never. Todbringer’s eye stayed firm as she leaned down, feeling her hot breath pass through sharp teeth to stroke his rough skin. His eye shot open as he felt a long warm, wet sensation drag across cheek. It took him a moment to fathom the sudden move as the feeling of her tongue lingered on his skin. She did it again, this time across his sweat-stained forehead, savouring the salty taste as Todbringer continued to look on in confusion. It was only after a couple of seconds her lapping at his face like a loving dog he managed to respond. 

“What th-.” Before he could finish Khazrak had invaded his mouth, her furry muzzle tickling his lips in a parody of a kiss. Her grip on him relaxed as she reached up to cup his bearded cheeks. Her tongue tasted every inch of his mouth as Todbringer lifted his hands off the ground, hesitant on what to do as Khazrak’s tongue brushed across his teeth. 

She let go after a while, sitting up while allowing Todbringer to follow. As their heavy breaths collided Todbringer placed his armoured hands on her shoulders. Feeling the tempered strength behind the coarse fur that could wrestle a horse to the ground. Raising his gaze past her broad shoulders and barbarous face she found her sultry gaze from her one eye. For Todbringer, the eye was what gave her meaning to him as his sworn enemy. She could feel her hand brush his jaw, turning his head to focus on scarred eye. As she focused on his patch Todbringer saw something he didn’t think he would ever see in his mortal life.

She was smiling at him, not in a malicious way. 

Before he could focus on her toothy smile any longer she, stood up. Getting him a better look at her form in the moonlight. Her muscle was not lost behind the fur, her hefty breasts upheld above tight abdominals and dripping wet folds. Her legs were long and toned ending in hooves with a tail swaying between her thighs. Every time they met it had been a blur of blood and metal. He had never seen her for this long and the experience was dizzying. His morals built by teachings of Ulric told him to act, slay her while he had the chance. Cut her down for his god, Middenland and the Empire to finish this feud that had lasted for most of his life. 

Arguing back was a longing sensation accompanied by the stirring of his loins. A desire that he didn’t know he had suppressed until now. 

Todbringer couldn’t tell if it was the forbidden energy of the Drakwald corrupting his mind or his pent up urges come to fruition. But he was up and removing his armour. He was loosening the knots of his breastplate faster than he’d ever done before. His armour held tight, it had to endure the harshness of battle. It didn’t stop him as his breastplate fell. Pieces of plate armour thudded to the ground one after the other as Khazrak watched in awe and anticipation. Rubbing her legs together as more of the Graf was revealed to her. He groaned as he pulled his chainmail hauberk over his head and quickly unstrapping his Gambeson. 

Khazrak couldn’t watch on any longer as she stepped forward to meet him, looming over Todbringer with gentle steps as he let his gambeson fall to the ground. After helping him discard his undershirt she finally laid her eye on his bare upper body. His broad chest covered in a light dusting of body hair that shimmered in the moon’s glare. Even in his advanced years, he had maintained a strong physique with broad shoulders and barrel chest upheld on powerful legs. Without a word she tentatively reached forward, brushing her fingers to feel the hard muscles of his arms and chest. She twirled his body hair between her fingers, finding it strange as she never really focused on it. As she leaned in for a whiff of his scent she felt her thighs instinctively clench in arousal. The heat and smell were something otherworldly to her as she hungrily inhaled his beastly aroma. Suddenly she felt a hand stroke her chops, she leaned into his rough hand as he petted her muzzle. With her missing eye, she couldn’t see his fingers as they caressed her fur. She returned his gaze, a light smile with an eye she had never seen so soft. Despite the damage they’ve both caused to each other, Todbringer felt strangely complete as he ran a hand along her cheek with another grabbing her hip pull her close. For Khazrak, she could only close her eye in bliss as the one she had obsessed over for decades gently ran his fingers through her fur. The cool nighttime air of the Drakwald didn’t affect them as they stood in each other’s embrace. Khazrak opened her eye when she felt Todbringer gently turn her head to reveal her missing eye. Brushing her dreadlocks aside and chuckling. 

“You need a patch like me Khazrak.” Gently grabbing the pack of her head and pulling her down to his level, the beast lord paused before following the Graf’s movements. Suddenly she was pulled forward as the Elector Count embraced her in an awkward kiss. Khazrak briefly questioned the action before leaning into the strange movement. Feeling her breasts flatten up against his chest. A tongue brushed up against her lips. She copied his movements, running her long tongue through his teeth and cheeks to the count’s surprise. Recoiling at the length of her tongue as it passionately played with his own. Their tongues danced until they couldn’t hold their breath any longer, separating with gasps and pants. Khazrak was now on her knees with Todbringer looking down on her. The hair of her muzzle ticking his beard as she spoke in a harsh yet wanting tone. 

“Khazrak want Todbringer!” It didn’t take much to understand her broken Reikspeil, Todbringer obliged as he pulled her in for a much rougher embrace. Khazrak followed with their lips hungrily clashing like the duels of the past, pushing their bare forms against each other with gusto and vigour. Todbringer took the time for his hands to wander down her back. Flowing through the cascading curtain of dreadlocks that descended from her crown. Her stubby goat-like tail merrily wagging before brushing past her waist. Khazrak shivered as she felt Todbringer’s hands grip her shapely posterior. Leaned into his firm grip as his hands dug into her soft cheeks, feeling the springy fat and coarse fur above the firm muscle. Todbringer knew it was a warrior’s behind if he ever felt one. Jiggling atop legs that could break a man beneath them. 

Khazrak gasped as Todbringer squeezed her pert buttocks before reaching to undo his belt and upper leg armour. As their tongues separated, Khazrak focused on his movements, drawing her attention to the bulge straining against his pants. She lowered herself even further, continuing to press her muzzle against his warm body. With the last knot undone Todbringer’s length was released from its confines. The intoxicating smell hit Khazrak like a cannon as his painfully erect member was presented to her hungry gaze. As she cradled it in her hand she could feel how it pulsated and begged for relief. A whiff of the smell had her struggling not to climax then and there. His loin’s musk was heavenly to her, making her head spin as she gulped in his scent. Salivating like she was eyeing a juicy piece of meat from a hardy raid. She couldn’t help but let out her tongue to have a taste. 

Todbringer’s eye remained wary as he focused on Khazrak’s sharp teeth. Her long tongue sliding from her drooling lips to find its place against his member. The Graf hissed in pent up pleasure as he felt her stroke along the underside of his shaft. Paying a special attention to the crown as she flicked up drop of anticipation. Diving back in for more to the Graf’s harsh gasps. As she continued to take in his smell and taste his length, Todbringer struggled to contain his composure. He had oral performed on him before, both by mistresses and his wives but what Khazrak could do was far beyond any of them. Suddenly Khazrak opened her mouth, letting his entire length into her maw as she continued to swirl her tongue around his shaft. Coating his entire member in a layer of warm spit as she slathered him in twirling tongue. Nuzzling the Graf’s crotch as she savoured the taste of his dripping arousal and strong musk. His gasps and moans of pleasure providing ample encouragement for her sloppy assault. Todbringer’s knees went weak with the sudden onrush of warmth and moisture from her maw and tongue bath. He gripped her horns, stabilising himself as her tongue traced every inch of his member. Pumping back in forth to the weak gasps of Todbringer. She hummed in delight at the taste of his cock dripping with need. With Todbringer’s guidance, she bobbed in time with his weak, unconsciously rocking hips. Using her horns like reigns to control her greedy slurps and sucks. He grunted when he felt her tongue extend beyond his length, coating his thighs and crotch in a layer of warm saliva. 

Todbringer’s knuckles turned white and his eye slammed shut. He struggled to stand with Khazrak supporting him as she continued to greedily lap at his stiffened cock. The pleasure was building like a dam ready to burst and the Graf was holding back by sheer will alone. Her moist breath teasing him while her tongue wrapped itself around his length. Before long it was too much for the Graf. Khazrak could feel it as his grip on her horns tightened and his pent up shaft throbbed. He grew harsher, smashing her puckered lips against his groin as his thrusts grew ragged and out of rhythm. With a desperate gasp he gave into the pleasure. Khazrak clamped her lips, trying to not waste any of his load as it flooded her maw. Remnants escaped from her mouth marking streaks down her fur and dripping onto her proud, heaving bosom. Todbringer could only grunt and moan through gritted teeth as Khazrak’s tongue got to work. Slurping up as much of the Graf’s cum as she could before lifting her muzzle to reveal the shining mess of fluids to the moonlight. Marking both his crotch and the lips of her goat-like mouth. Giving the tip once last lick as she looked up to enjoy her handiwork. 

As his stance faltered Khazrak gently held him, supporting him as he leaned into her hands to rest on the forest floor. Todbringer felt the large beast-woman loom over him. His legs being swallowed up by her pelvis and plump bottom with her heavy, furred breasts dragging along his pectorals. In a moment without pleasure clouding his mind the situation returned to Todbringer. 

He just received fellatio from a beast-woman, his sworn rival who scooped his eye from his skull and had murdered his men. It had been the best oral he had ever had. 

She was currently grinding her dripping folds along his crotch, her eye closed in bliss as her juices marked his spit stained rod. As the Graf’s breaths decreased in depth his cloudy eye refocused itself back on Khazrak. More so on her heaving boobs as they swayed with her hips. Hanging like tantalising orbs covered in a matt of warm fuzzy fur. He heaved himself to lean on his elbows, squinting his gaze on the furred mounds of the beast-woman. He couldn’t help himself as he reached for them. 

Khazrak’s grunted as Todbringer sunk his fingers into her generous globes, his digits moulding and massaging the soft flesh, like warm dough encased in brown hair. She leaned into his touch, letting the Graf fondle and play with her mounds as they swayed. As his rough fingers stroked through her hide he eventually found something in the dark fluff. When he pinched it her eye snapped open, shivering in bliss. Todbringer could feel her arousal pooling in his lap as his groping and massaging continued to rile her up. Even if she wasn’t a human, Todbringer could read her like an open book. Taking the experiences from past encounters, Todbringer pulled her down. She sensually bleated as Todbringer tucked into her right breast. Running his tongue over her areola as he pinched her nub with his teeth. The sudden onrush of pleasure made her legs quake as she battled to stay up. She leaned into the Graf, giving Todbringer greater access for Todbringer to lap and massage her sensitive mounds. Mewling in sustained pleasure with her eye tightly shut, she didn’t notice the hand sliding its way down her toned abs towards her puffy vulva. He could feel the heat as he hovered his hand over her delicate slit. Khazrak shrieked in orgasmic ecstasy, her strength leaving her as Todbringer cupped his hand on her soaked nethers. Not so much as caressing her folds as she sensually whinnied into his ear. 

She collapsed atop him, her heavy breast heaving with breathy moans. His lips left her breasts to return the weak stare of the beast-woman, dazed in the afterglow of his sensual assault. Raising his moistened hand it suddenly dawned on him. A smile grew across the Graf’s face as the weight of the beast-woman relaxed across him like a strong, warm blanket. Still riding out the feeling of the Graf’s foreplay, her hefty boobs dragging across his chest with his semi-stiff cock nestled between her moist thighs and plump ass cheeks. 

“Did you climax?” As she slowly opened her eye she stared back at the Elector Count in shock, immediately averting her gaze to the Graf’s growing grin. 

“Did I just made the great Beastlady Khazrak One-eye climax without as much as a finger!” Todbringer chuckled as pride swelled in his chest. Khazrak’s cheeks heated up in a hidden blush as she raised a hand to cover her muzzle. Todbringer’s chuckles turned to a rumbling laugh penetrating the Drakwald. While it could be triumphant much of it was amusement, he just made his mortal enemy orgasm with just his dextrous tongue, strong hands and masculine musk. As his chuckles died down, still with Khazrak cowering atop him. She jumped as he placed a hand atop her head, gently caressing her grey dreadlocks with a content sigh. 

“Still got it.” The Graf whispered to no one in particular, the moon reflecting in his eye with the gentle breaths of Khazrak against his neck and her body shielding him from the forest breeze. He was strangely fine with the feeling of Khazrak’s heartbeat thumping through her breasts and her goat-like face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Even if her horns got in the way a bit. 

The moment was interrupted as his warm blanket left him, leaving several strands of herself across his lap as she left his body bare to the elements. Khazrak staggered to her hooves, the feeling of his presence lingering across her mounds and lower lips that ebbed for more of his touch. Yet she knew only one thing could satisfy it. She turned from Todbringer, swaying her wide hips as she sauntered to a tree. His eye couldn’t help but follow the plump rump with her tail raised to give un unfiltered view of her taught prosterier. She leaned forward placing her palms against a tree while she spread her animalistic legs. Flashing her good eye over her shoulder, she growled out a passionate, stern order as she presented her dripping lips and clenching hole to the Graf between her furry cheeks. 

“Breed me Todbringer.” The Grand Duke of Middenland hauled himself to his feet, approaching the presenting beast-woman with a puffed out chest and predatory eye focused on her needy sex nestled between the cleft of her solid ass. Even bent over he had to pull her down to be at his level, placing a hand on her succulent hips he leaned forward until he was face to face with her depths. Khazrak let out a low, sensual moan through gritted teeth as Todbringer ran his tongue across the entirety of her puffy lips. Even as jolts of pleasure shot up her body she still didn’t have what she desired. Her voice wavering through the intense feeling of the Graf’s teasing tongue running along her valley. 

“BREED ME NOW!” She barked as she wiggled her behind, her tail hiking up and knees trembling. Todbringer let out a quiet sadistic chuckle, giving her loins one last kiss as he positioned himself for the main event. Teasing her folds with the tip of his length. 

With one harsh thrust Khazrak cried in pure ecstasy. Her fingernails dug into the bark as he hilted himself within her, taking her virginity in one fell swoop. Leaving her time to recover, Todbringer resisted the urge to fuck her into a quivering mess. He slid himself out slowly, waiting until only the tip of his length kissed her dripping lips. He thrust in once more to the sound of craving bleats. Her knees quaked as he continued to hammer himself into her pussy. Using her tail as leverage, his hips flattening her soft buttocks with lewd, wet slaps echoing through the forest. Khazrak shrieked as she felt a hand grip her breast once more, firmly squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers. Her breasts had never been something beastmen desired, but he couldn’t keep his hands off them. As he rolled his fingers against her tit-flesh her mouth flopped open, her tongue rolling out as she struggled to contain herself. Her mind swimming in euphoria as his member buried itself into her depths. Suddenly the human let go, but before she could act she was swept off her hooves. 

With all his might Todbringer pulled Khazrak around, his fingers sinking into her muscled thighs as he pressed her against the tree with all his stubborn might. The delighted moans grew more fierce as he continued to hilt himself inside her. For him, it was more than the feeling of Khazrak’s walls spasming around his shaft that drove him as he repeatedly slammed himself into her. She was at his mercy, completely weak to his assault as she moaned, groaned and hissed into his ear. Something that drove him on, pushed him past his physical limits as he pounded into her limp form. She was like putty in his hands, submissive to him as he thrust into her quivering sex with fury. Watching as her boobs errantly bounced before him he couldn’t resist himself but to lean forward. Suckling on her jiggling breasts to her delighted sighs. It was the last edge she needed, driving her over the edge with a cry of orgasmic joy. 

Todbringer wasn’t done just yet. 

His eye had glazed over in lust, even as sweat poured down his forehead and his legs burned in pain he kept going. With the beckoning of his loins, Todbringer hammered himself against her. His knuckles turned white as his grip on her ass tightened. His teeth clamped down on her breast to a cry from Khazrak. She responded as her walls quivered in climax after climax, spasming with his trusts as she struggled to wrap her legs around the human. Her hooves locked behind his back as she leaned in to nuzzle his shoulder. Her strength threatening to leave as he thrust into her, struggling to not go limp as pleasure overwhelmed her. With each thrust her moans grew as Todbringer continued to spear Khazrak on his throbbing member. The beast lord embraced the human, helping him bury himself further into her quivering lips. Khazrak’s moans grew more passionate in tone, her animalistic brays pushing Todbringer forward until with one last kiss of her womb she felt herself erupt one last time in ecstasy. Crying a hearty roar to the moon as she writhed and went limp in bliss. Her juices flowing down her legs as her shuddering walls clamped down on Todbringer. Her convulsing walls bringing him over with a masculine grunt. Flooding her womb with harsh growls as his legs began to shudder under their combined weight. They both collapsed to the forest floor, weak as they rode out their climax under the glare of the trees. With half-lidded stares, the two embraced once more. Their tongues battling until sleep overcame them both as they lay in a tangled mess of limp limbs. 

—————

Todbringer could feel the patchy rays of the sun on his skin as it pierced the forest canopy. It was soon followed with the moisture of a tongue dragging its way across his lips, begging for entrance. He allowed it in, even without sight he cupped her chops and met her kiss with his own. Her warm tongue ran across his teeth as he gently leaning in to feel more of her...neck. She must be standing up at the way her neck angled down and her fur was shorter than before. On top of that, her teeth weren’t that sharp and her kiss was more sloppy. Practically ignoring his probing tongue. 

That’s when he opened his eye to look up, realising he had made a terrible mistake. 

For staring back at him was the long face of his faithful horse. 

Todbringer recoiled in disgust, turning to the side to release a series of splutters, gasps and gags at the horrifying realisation. But that was only the start of the stomach-churning events of the past few hours. Exchanging strokes of the tongue with his horse was far from the worst. It was around that time that he felt something rub against his back accompanied by a guttural, sleepy murmur. Strong hairy arms pulled into the cleavage of two globes of soft flesh. It didn’t take him long to realise his face was buried in Khazrak’s bountiful breasts. The denial of a dream from a bout of insanity was gone, replaced with uncertainty growing in the pit of his stomach. His thoughts were interrupted as he was pulled further against Khazrak, her hoofed legs twining with his own while she tucked her muzzle against his bald crown. As he tried to move he grit his teeth, his hips crying out in utter agony. He had gone through hours of battle and violence, as he got older his body would hurt for longer. It was an aching feeling, one that would forever persist but never hinder him.

He currently couldn’t feel anything past his pelvis. 

Instead, he turned his attention to the naked woman embracing him. Her chest breathing against his face with her heartbeat drumming in his ears. Her mammaries made for nice and comfy pillows as he nuzzled himself into them. For a chaos spawned beast of the wild, Khazrak slept rather quietly. Todbringer’s first wife snored louder than her. So for now, Todbringer resided himself to being cuddled by his nude sworn enemy while his mount wondered the area. Yet as her snores danced atop his head, he whispered to his horse. 

“Boy, come here. Come to master, c’mere.” He realised if he could grab the reigns he could pull himself to his feet and hopefully hold himself up. A major flaw with the plan was that his horse was more interested in eating a patch of grass than Boris’ loudening whispers.  
“Over here you good for nothing animal, I’m right here. Help your master.” His voice grew louder as his horse continued to ignore his pleading demands. As the stallion stepped away he slumped back into the plump bust that made his pillows, taking his time to admire the body he only just remembered he as inside. Just as he realised this a snort caught his attention. Her eye fluttered open she found herself longingly staring at Graf in her arms. The air went still aside from Todbringer’s horse continuing to nonchalantly munch on plants. Without breaking eye contact Khazrak sunk a hand between their bodies, scooping out a mix of fluids between her fingers before bringing them to her nose. With inquisitive snorts, a tentative lick confirmed her suspicions. Licking her digits clean before stroking her tongue across the Graf’s forehead once more. 

Khazrak was the first to move, pushing herself up as they disconnected their groins with a wet pop and trickling fluids. She sat up and stretched, reaching forward and arching her back to proudly expose her bosom to the morning sun. Her joints and muscles popping in relief as she twisted and turned to cracking joints. Todbringer couldn’t help but smile. 

He woke up every day the same way. 

As she stood up her gaze turned to Todbringer, still lying against the forest floor with furrowed eyebrows, stiff joints and numb legs. Reaching down, Khazrak gave a questioning glare as the Todbringer raised a hand. 

“I’m fine, I just need to rest for a minute...I can’t feel my legs.” As the events of the night returned to him Todbringer thought back to their climax. He had managed to lift her, a beast-woman that was good several feet over him. He felt a pride in himself he hadn’t felt a while, thinking he had lost that kind of strength years ago. It was supplemented by the fact the feeling in his legs was beginning to return.

“Khazrak hurt Todbringer?” Even through her broken Reikspeil, Todbringer could sense the worry in her voice. He couldn’t help but let out a pained laugh as he held his chest. 

“It’s not the first time you have if that makes you feel better.” As Todbringer sat up his eye followed Khazrak as she moved through the area. 

In the light, he could finally get a good view of her naked form. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in daylight. The sun illuminated the scars running across her toned physique, some of which he caused himself. She slowly walked about, picking up their belongings strewn about the clearing. Each time bending over with a raised tail to give Todbringer a perfect view of her firm behind and the mess plastered against her inner thighs. Once all was collected she dropped it at Todbringer’s side, a jumbled collection of his bloodied armour, dirtied clothes and Runefang. As she turned he tried to keep his focus from her boobs as they hung mere inches from his face. 

“Thank you, I should get going. My people will be worrying” As he started the painful process of pulling on his clothes and armour Khazrak watched on in curiosity. It was a slow process not helped by the pain, but he gradually managed to put it on piece by piece. That was until he reached his chest plate, a task for usually a squire to assist. Yet he felt a pair of hands help him, holding the straps as he buckled them into place. Then came the real challenge. 

Standing up. 

Usually he could stand up no problem in his armour, but his legs refused to budge and his efforts were for naught. That was until Khazrak placed a hand beneath his armpits and hauled him up. As his feet struggled to stay upright he fell forward, burying himself into Khazrak’s bosom as the beast-woman supported him. After regaining his stance he looked up, her one-eyed gaze returning his own as the forest stood still. The silence was broken as they both gently embraced, carefully holding each other as they stood with care and tenderness. A single strand of saliva connected their lips as Todbringer spoke. 

“Until we meet again Khazrak.” Khazrak nodded in turn, giving Todbringer a smile and one last lick across his cheek before handing him his helmet. As the Graf walked to his horse the beast-woman slid on her hauberk and picked up her weapons. Watching longingly as her desire rode off into the forest. She reached into her thighs, scooping up as much as she could of Todbringer’s virility before rubbing it into her fur and skin. Her eye closed in euphoria as she applied it like thick perfume. 

She could feel her thighs clench at the smell alone, invading her nostrils as she licked some from her fingers. With his scent rubbed into her fur, she would smell of him for weeks on end telling all the bulls of the herd. 

She belonged to him, and him alone. 

————

“AND YOU JUST LET HIM GO?” Emil Valgeir growled through yellowed teeth with spit showering the quivering squire before him. The squire averted his gaze from the towering bearded man as he stuttered out an answer. 

“H-He’s the G-Graf your holiness. I-I can’t disobey the Graf’s word.” Valgeir scoffed as he turned his back on the squire to face the contingent of bearded warriors dressed in furs and armour, hammers slung over shoulders and determined scowls across their harsh faces. 

“Ready all Knights of the White Wolf and Teutogen Guard, we’ll...” The High Priest of Ulric went silent as the sound of clopping hooves entered the Middenplatz courtyard. A large frame sat atop a barded warhorse. His armour hung loosely from his body while much of it was marked with a mix of blood and dirt. His beard was ruffled hiding a content smile, his gaze ignoring the gathered knights as they watched on. Todbringer brought his horse to a stop upon reaching the gathering of his subjects. 

“Squire get my servants to ready a warm bath and my bed.” The squire unconsciously caught Todbringer’s tossed helmet it before joining his master’s side. Todbringer’s dismount was harsh, grunting in pain as his joins emitted a dull ache which he did his best to ignore. Two knights rushed to his side as they helped him down from his mount. He painfully waddled past the lines of knights straight for the palace entrance. None of them dared to question the Graf except for the head of the Church of Ulric himself. 

“Boris Todbringer why did you leave in the middle of the night?” Todbringer paused his step before turning, the viscera across his armour shining in the morning sun alongside the toothy smile presented across his cracked lips. 

“I don’t know Valgeir. I just wanted to go for a ride in the Drakwald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and hoped you enjoyed, critique is very welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, I would love to hear feedback.


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